Nate Knows...
Nate Webster
Photo Courtesy Nate Webster
February 2010
I braved the bitter winter weather as I walked to lunch with my mentor, Shaun Proulx. At the time I was one month into my internship at Shaun’s radio show The Shaun Proulx Show. Giant snow flakes violently hit our faces as we rushed to our favourite burrito joint, Chino Locos, located in the heart of Toronto’s gay village. The second we sat down, after a stomp of our feet and shake of our hair I got right down to business.
“We have to get Kelly Cutrone on the show.” I said, all 32 of my pearly whites displayed in a grin.
“For sure… who is she?” asked Shaun.
Our burritos arrived at our table and I spent the majority of the lunch educating Mr. Proulx on one of my greatest teachers. I told him she was the founder of People’s Revolution, a fashion public relations, marketing and branding firm that have represented Valentino, Longchamp (love my bag), Thierry Mugler, Vivienne Westwood, Jeremy Scott (love my angel wings Swatch designed by Scott), and many more notable and influential names. I told him I had first been introduced to her as Lauren Conrad’s boss while watching an episode of The Hills on MTV. It was love at first sight. She was my black leather licorice in a world of blonde bubble gum. In a show where characters uttered one word sentences, Kelly Cutrone spoke volumes. I never saw her as the guilty pleasure bitch boss from hell my friends saw her as. I saw her as my teacher. Every week I would tune in to gain a nugget of knowledge that I could stick in my back front pocket. Her no-nonsense approach when it came to running her business inspired me to be a better intern – a better person. Who knew The Hills would become my Mr. Rogers?
Anytime I fall in love with a book, I take it everywhere with me. Any quiet moment, the book comes out and I re-read sections that truly spoke to me. So when Shaun asked to borrow her first book “If You Have To Cry, Go Outside”, I whipped it out like magic.
I was on Facebook that night. I typed in her name and clicked the top result. I clicked “Send Message”, bypassed the body of the message and clicked “Record Video”. If I wanted to get her attention, I’d have to offer something different to the hundreds of messages she must receive on the daily. I spoke from the heart for about 3 minutes, pouring out my love for her book as well as the dream it would be to have her on the show. I pressed stop, then send. I closed my lap top and turned off the light.
More Nate Webster.
Tags: GayGuideToronto.com, Kelly Cutrone, Nathan Webster, Normal Gets You Nowhere, Shaun Proulx Media
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We interrupt the workout of Bobby and Christina, who together form rising pop duo Destineak, to talk about coming together musically and personally, kissing within minutes of meeting, playing The Beef Ball this Toronto Pride, and working with re-mixers for Usher and Kanye on their new album, Sirens. Bonus: Preview “Calling Your Name”.
- Nate Webster
Tags: Destineak, GayGuideToronto.com, Nathan Webster, Shaun Proulx Media
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Wethinks our office ingenue Nate Webster is in a romantic mood these days. While not interested in the recent royal nuptials from a star power POV, he rose nonetheless to witness love. And now, on public transit, he’s searching for it. Let’s discuss:
I rested the side of my head against the subway window, like they do in the movies. Fresh drops of rain raced across the window. “Lie Down In Darkness” by Moby was playing on my iPod. (Play while reading to enhance your experience.)
I scanned the subway.
I wanted to find love.
My eyes fell on a young woman leaning against the subway doors. “DANGER – DO NOT LEAN AGAINST DOORS”. Her golden blonde hair was tied in a pony, showcasing her darker blonde roots. A brown leather jacket fitted over an emerald green tank top (doesn’t sound like a match, but it worked). A deep tan accentuated her crystal blue eyes. She stared at one of the advertisements above the opposite set of doors. I looked to see what she was looking at: Erectile dysfunction clinic. I smirked. My eyes went back to her. She now looked at me. I immediately returned to the raindrops running down the window, as if I was on a mission to find a specific drop.
She exited at the next stop.
I had two more stops until home. I returned to my scan of the subway car.
I wanted to find love.
I looked to see what she was looking at: Erectile dysfunction clinic …
Sitting directly in front of me was a small elderly woman. Maybe in her late 70‘s. What looked to be decades of stories, illustrated on her face. Faint lines, shifting my attention to her perfectly applied red lips. Her eyelashes long and black. Eyes deep brown. Her long white hair was tied in a side braid. My eyes followed it, then stopped at a peach coloured bow. Adorable, I thought. Her jacket: black shiny leather. Like Catwoman. Michelle Pfieffer. She held her purse in her lap, a simple powder blue popping against the black coat. A single button holding it closed. Her panty hose were run-less. Black ballet flats.
As the subway emerged from underground to outdoors, reception was restored to my phone. As I went to reach for it I heard the familiar bells and whistles. The sound of a text message, email, Facebook notification. Deluxe combination. But to my surprise, there was no blood red blinky light. As I put my phone away, defeated, I noticed the white haired beauty, fingers furiously working away on her BlackBerry.
I stood up, in preparation for my stop. The subway jerked and I grabbed onto the pole. In front of me was a young man and woman. They were standing in front of the doors, facing each other. She had brown hair, carefully curled. Brown eyes and a baggy leather jacket. She wore jeans and Converse. I can’t remember what he wore. I can’t remember what he looked like. Neutral. But sweet. She held a bouquet of flowers. Wrapped in baby pink paper. She stared into his eyes. He was taller. He kissed her top lip. He kissed the tip of her nose. He kissed her forehead. And held his kiss there.
I had found it.
Tags: GayGuideToronto.com, looking for love, Moby, Nate Knows, Nathan Webster, Shaun Proulx Media
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A young woman is getting married to the man she loves tomorrow. She adores this man, so deeply, that spending the rest of her life without him is out of the question. She’s trying to catch the butterflies in her stomach as she thinks about the big day – her big day – their big day. Tomorrow. Time rewinds to their first date. The beginning of a brand new relationship. The start of a new chapter. Freshly cut grass. Optimism bursting at the seams. A smile as their first conversation flows, with the occasional hiccup – interruption. Two different sentences start at the same time. “No, you go first…” said at the same time. A pause. Laughter. Hours that feel like minutes. The eye contact that shifts with a blink. The smile that spreads after realizing he was looking too. The first time her hand held his. The warm confidence that enveloped her mind and heart. The first phone call. The first time he asked to see her again. The first time she said yes.
I will not be peeling my face from my pillow at 4 a.m. tomorrow morning to watch an event. I am waking up to watch love. I have always been a hopeless romantic but have never been into extreme weddings. If I had it my way William and Kate would be hopping on a plane and eloping. Or inviting just their closest friends and family to a back yard BBQ with white Christmas lights and plastic red cups. Drunken speeches, laughter through tears. Minute long hugs with family members, words of wisdom whispered into ears. Polaroid pictures, wedding cake playfully shoved into faces. A first dance in the middle of the backyard which turns into a swaying embrace. Then sing-a-longs to Neil Diamond and The Supremes. The stars shining in the sky as the bride makes her first wish.
I will be watching the Royal Wedding of Prince William of Wales and Kate Middleton tomorrow morning. I’ll be watching for when William sees his bride walking down the aisle, wearing his late mother’s Sapphire ring. Watching the dress that makes Kate feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
The butterflies that couldn’t be caught.
Tags: bride, Kate Middleton, Prince William, Princess Diana, Royal Wedding, Wales
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A baby boy sits with his baby mother on the streetcar.
The boy cries.
The mother talks to her phone.
An important call.
The mother tries to calm her son.
An important conversation.
The boy cries louder.
The mother holds the phone between her cheek and shoulder.
An attempt to soothe her child.
Coo.
Shh…
It’s okay.
Everything will be okay.
Goodbye.
The phone is passed to the baby.
The tears stop.
The eyes widen.
“Daddy!”
Tags: dad, family, Father, GayGuideToronto.com, Heart, Love, mom, mother, Nate Knows, Nate Webster, unconditional
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I will admit I really like Jennifer Love Hewitt. I don’t love her. But I like her. Jennifer Like Hewitt. There’s something about the work she does that is so bad, yet delicious. Scrumptious. This sordid like affair took off when I first witnessed her in I Know What You Did Last Summer. Sure, my heart was sold to Sarah Michelle Gellar, but J.Lo (sorry, Lopez) still rocked some violent bangs (so bad) which naturally put her in my good books.
The reason I’m making this guilty confession is because I watched a movie over the weekend under the impression that Jen was starring in it. Turns out, the woman on the cover of Made In Dagenham is not Hewitt, but Sally Hawkins. Bummer. I was so excited to watch a terribly calorific flick. When I realized my mistake, I was angry at this impostor for a few minutes but cooled down, put my big boy pants on and started the movie.
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Tags: Andrea Riseborough, Bob Hoskins, canada, Dugenham, Equal Pay Act, Equal Rights, Equality, Feminism, Ford, gay, GayGuideToronto.com, Geraldine James, Guide, I Know What You Did Last Summer, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Made In Dagenham, Miranda Richardson, Nate Knows, Nate's Notes, Rita O'Grady, Rosamund Pike, Sally Hawkins, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Toronto, Women's Rights
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It was Sunday, January 16, 2011 and I along with the majority of gays and gals watched the Golden Globe Awards.
I was bored, becoming antsy and ready to tune out when for a split second I witnessed something truly important.
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Tags: Angelina Jolie, David Letterman, Italy, Johnny Depp, Matt Damon, RuPaul, The Tourist, Venice
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*Article contains spoilers!
2011 is all about second chances.
My “Grudge List” began with Grey’s Anatomy star Katherine Heigl and her infamous Vanity Fair interview where she made a few catty remarks about Knocked Up – the movie that birthed her leading lady status. (Other names on the list include Susan Boyle, Scary Spice and Barbara Walters to name a few – but that’s for another blog altogether.)
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Tags: 24, Bringing Down The House, Designing Women, Grey's Anatomy, Jean Smart, Josh Duhamel, Katherine Heigl, Life As We Know It, Nate Knows, Nate's Notes, Vanity Fair
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I don’t know what to do with myself. I miss her so much already. I feel heartbroken. I’m so in love with her it hurts.
As I fumbled to turn my BlackBerry alarm off this morning, the above message was waiting in my inbox from my friend Ben.
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Tags: January 26, Ontario, Rescheduled, Robyn, Sound Academy, Toronto, With Every Heartbeat
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A monstrous pile of wrinkled miscellaneous articles of clothing decorate a young man’s carpet. He stands in front of it, one hand on his hip, eyes squinted. He scans the pile to find a shirt that he deems flattering. One that’s clean but more importantly one that doesn’t show off his arms. He opts for an old cashmere sweater with faded diamonds lining the bottom. Carefully he pulls the sweater over his just styled (and still sticky) hair and races to the bathroom mirror. He’s late. He surveys the sweater. It hangs off him as though he were a clothing rack. The sleeves are rolled up. He always make sure the sleeves clutch just a few centimeters above the wrist. He can’t roll the sleeves up past his elbows. They’re too sharp and draw attention to his bony arms. He hugs himself. Shoulder blades. Collar bone. Chest plate. Ribs. Back to the bedroom. The sweater goes over his head, not caring about his hair anymore and slides a black t-shirt on, pulling the sweater back over his body. Two layers should offer a bit more padding without overheating in the nightclub. In case he hugs somebody. Too tight. Leading to that perplexed facial expression from whoever he embraced. While alcohol is most people’s security blanket on night’s like these, his man-made padding is his. He pulls out a pair of black skinny jeans. Puts them on. Runs back to the mirror. Confusion. These jeans are not skinny. These are baggy jeans. These are jeans that used to be skinny but are now baggy. They used to fit perfectly. He used to wear these out and feel okay about his chicken legs. After a few too many wash cycles, dance floors and spiteful hour long anti-TTC walks home, they’ve stretched. Jeans off. A different pair. Grey acid wash. Way too tight. He begins to unzip and then a light bulb flickers. He leaves the grey tight jeans on and pulls the black baggier jeans on over top of them. He zips not one, but two zippers. This is the first time he’s wearing two pairs of pants. On a second glance, his legs do look better. The black skinny jeans look skinnier, fitting better, giving the impression that his legs fill out the jeans.
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Tags: Ally McBeal, anorexia, Bulimia, Eating Disorder, Ellen Degeneres, gay guide toronto, Nate Knows, Nate's Notes, Portia de Rossi, Unbearable Lightness
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